


you left me here bleeding (all i heard was screaming)

by mystarsandmyocean



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Olicity Hiatus Project
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 09:47:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2265132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystarsandmyocean/pseuds/mystarsandmyocean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's gone when she wakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you left me here bleeding (all i heard was screaming)

Her mouth tastes of copper and ash.

 

She darts her tongue out, gasping, choking on smoke and flames but -

 

The air is clean. She's in the Foundry.

 

Blinking, Felicity rolls her head to the side, her contacts sliding in and out of focus.

 

"-just stormed out of here, of course he didn't say where-"

 

A figure in red slips into focus.

 

"-not exactly what you guys trained me for, listen, can you please just get over here, she's really starting to freak me out, there’s blood every-"

 

"Roy?"

 

Her voice croaks. God, she sounds awful.

 

Across the room, he almost drops the phone. "Shit, Dig, she just woke up, I need to go," he says, coming towards her. "Just hurry, okay? And call Lance or the cavalry or whoever, I’ve never seen him like that before.”

 

Felicity opens her mouth to ask who, but her eyes catch on the empty glass case. 

 

 _Oh_. 

 

“Seen him like what?”  The words barely pass her lips, throaty and dry; now, she remembers the what happened and how. 

 

The waiter clasping Oliver on the shoulder, whispering in his ear. 

 

The table tumbling to the ground. 

 

Flying through the air, Oliver’s fingers scraping her hip.

 

And then.  Nothing. 

 

Roy swallows and avoids her gaze.  It must be bad, the thought flitters across her mind; after Slade, they’d agreed, no more lying to the team. 

 

(She’d believed them.)

 

“Should you be up?” Roy scowls instead, cupping her neck with one hand and one elbow with the other, lowering her back towards the table.  “You could have a concussion or something, right?  See, this is why you and Dig need to teach me first aid, in case shit like this happens…”

 

She sinks back to the table, her head lolling to the side.  The second time tonight her boys have babbled.  Maybe she’s contagious. 

 

The room swims some more.

 

Why isn’t Oliver here?  Is he hurt? 

 

She struggles to grasp Roy’s wrist, narrowing her eyes at him.  Her left eye won’t shut properly, the lashes coated with something that sticks.  “Roy?” she slurs, “What happened?”

 

They’d gone to dinner?  Hadn’t they? 

 

“Felicity, come on, wake up,” Roy demands, his face inches away.  She doesn’t remember falling asleep. “Damn it, you need a hospital-”

 

The Arrow phone – her nickname, of course – beeps, Lance’s personal alert. 

 

They should answer it.  She doesn’t want to get up, though.  Roy’s face blurs, a portrait by Monet. 

 

“Roy,” she chastises.  He steps away, is back in a flash; she giggles; it rasps in her throat.  Pressing the phone against her ear, she watches the lights of the ceiling dance overhead. 

 

“Hi, detective.”  Each word requires concentration; for once, she couldn’t babble even if she wanted.  “Everything okay?”

 

“Felicity,” Lance demands, “Want to tell me what’s going on?  I’ve got reports of the Arrow tearing a path through the Glades and a warehouse explosion on 56th.”

 

56th Street.  The knowledge muddles through her mind.  56th street, 56th street, 56th street…

 

 _Oh_.

 

“Where Vertigo’s been working?” They hadn’t confirmed it yet, had planned on tomorrow for reconnaissance.  “Why would he blow up his own plant?”

 

_“Vertigo sends his regards...”_

 

“That’s why I’m calling you,” Lance sighs.  Ever since his promotion, he’s been relying more and more on their team, their intel – their help.  Normally, she’s proud; tonight, she’d like him to leave her alone until her head stops throbbing. 

 

“Wasn’t us, captain.”  She winces against the light, her left lashes still sticking.  Roy slips back into focus. 

 

He’s frowning.

 

He slips out of focus again.  She blinks – _oh_.  No.  He’s shaking his head, why would he shake his head? 

 

He plucks the phone from her hand and ends the call. 

 

_“To you and your blonde friend.”_

 

“Roy?”  She swallows, tasting copper and ash once more on her tongue.  “Where is he?”

 

_“So you’ve seen him, right?  The vigilante?”_

 

The vigilante.  Not the Arrow.

 

_“I read that he saved you. What was he like?”_

 

Lips pressed against her hairline, water - tears? - dripping down her face.

 

 _“I’ll kill him.  I’ll kill him.  Please don’t – I love you, I love you, I love you so, so much.”_      

 

Roy doesn’t answer. 

 

 _“Green.”_   

 

She vomits to the side of the table, the taste of copper, ash, and bile thick in her throat.                   


End file.
